


Knee Deep in the Stars

by sartiebodyshots



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: Gen, Lesbian Courier, Post-Game(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-23
Updated: 2018-12-23
Packaged: 2019-09-25 09:27:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17118740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sartiebodyshots/pseuds/sartiebodyshots
Summary: A man from August's past arrives at the Lucky 38.





	Knee Deep in the Stars

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Hippo Campus' "Simple Season"

“August, there’s a man in the casino!  He wants to see you! He says it’s important!,” Yes Man says.

Everyone who wants to see August says it’s important.  It rarely is.

“Tell him that I got shot in the head,” August says, not looking up from her book.  

Yes Man sighs and August looks up at him.  It’s funny how his smiling electric image can be filled with so much irritation.  

“Every time you say that, it definitely gets funnier!” Yes Man enthuses.   “Not repetitive at all!”

“Yeah, I hear ya, Yes Man,” August says.  “He’s in the casino, you said?”

Yes Man does that thing where he nods even though he doesn’t have a physical body, and August marks her place in her book before swinging her legs off the arm of the chair she’s sprawled in.  She tosses her book to the seat and makes her way to the elevator. 

The ride down is short, but long enough for August to wonder what the man wants from her.  Yes Man generally screens out anyone truly incredibly irrelevant, so it must be something good.

_ Ding _ , the door opens, and August walks out into the main floor of the Lucky 38.  She keeps it mostly closed to the public, still, but people who have business with her are welcome.  

There’s a man sitting in the corner.  Even though he’s sitting, August can tell that he’s taller- taller than Arcade, and probably taller than her, too.  His clothes are dusty, which isn’t unusual for people who walked right out of the Mojave. 

“Uh, hello?” August says, clearing her throat as she approaches.  

She keeps her hand at her hip, where she keeps her knife.  Nobody should be able to bring weapons in here except her, Veronica, and Arcade, but she’s smuggled enough weapons into casinos to know that doesn’t always work.  

The man gets to his feet and turns to face her, and there’s a dull familiarity in the back of August’s skull that itches.  She shakes her head a little to clear it as the man takes a step towards her. 

“What’s going on?” August asks, concern overriding her caution as she takes a few more steps forward.  “Yes Man wasn’t real clear on why you’re here.”

“What?  Gonna pretend you don’t recognize me?” the man asks.  

Before August can shoot off a witty retort, the man’s voice sweeps through her brain, dusting off cobwebs and opening up doors that had been closed.  She stumbles backwards, away from the man, shaking her head. 

“It’s not possible,” August says.  “It’s just not.”

“What, is this a wise crack on my beard?” the man asks, rubbing his chin.  “I can pull it off, whether you think I can or not.” 

August opens her mouth and then shuts it, not sure how to say this isn’t a joke.  She loves her jokes, but this isn’t a joke, and she’s not sure that she can breathe.  

The man’s smile doesn’t falter until August presses a hand to her mouth to try to stifle the sob working its way out of her throat.  He closes the distance between them, wrapping his arms around her. 

“August, what’s wrong?” the man asks.  

“Hey, what’s going on here?” Arcade asks, coming in the door to the sight of August crying and shrugging off the touch of some stranger.

“Yeah, that’s what I was going to ask you.  What the fuck is going on around here?” the man asks, stepping towards Arcade.  “I come to Vegas and some robot directs me to this abandoned casino when I ask after August, and I find her in  _ tears _ ?  You had better have some goddamn answers.”

“This is Arcade.  He’s a friend. Stop yelling,” August says weakly, grabbing his arm.  “Arcade, this is Lawrence.”

“Lawrence?” Arcade asks.  “Like,  _ Lawrence _ ?”

August nods wearily, taking a step towards Arcade so she can speak in a low voice.  “I’m gonna take him up to the cocktail lounge. If you see Veronica, tell her we have to reschedule tonight.  Oh, and the King and Julie, too, since I’m sure you’ll see them. Just, uh. Cancel everything.”

“Let me know if you need anything, okay?” Arcade says, squeezing her arm.  

“Thanks, Arcade.  I’ll be fine,” August says.  “Just tell everyone I’m sorry to cancel.”

“They’ll understand.”

Arcade gives her a long look before heading back out the door.  

“Do you want to explain what’s going on here?”  Lawrence asks.

August crosses her arms as she turns back to him.  She can’t quite look him in the face; it’s too painful.  

“Follow me,” August says, crossing to the elevator.  It’s a long, silent ride up to the cocktail lounge, and when they reach the right level and exit the elevator, August turns to Victor.  “Total privacy for the cocktail lounge.”

“Got it, pardner!” Victor says cheerily, rolling onto the elevator.

“Take a seat anywhere,” August says.  “We’re going to be here for a while.”

Lawrence sits on one of the couches that face the Mojave, and August sits on the far end of the couch.  She’s not quite sure where to begin, so she just… does, staring out over the wasteland.

“A while back, I got shot in the head a couple times.  I lost most of my memory. It comes back, in fits and spurts sometimes,” August says.  “For a while, I forgot I had a brother. Then, I come across some Legion assholes, then saw their crosses, then I just remembered pulling you off of one, dead.  I remember holding you in my arms and  _ knowing _ you were dead.  You were dead.”

“Wait, wait, wait, what about you getting shot?” Lawrence asks, scooting a bit towards her.

August waves a hand, dismissing his concern before he can voice them any further.  “It’s fine. But why aren’t you dead, Lawrence?”

“You got help.  You gave me and Jay some water and got help.  We lived, thanks to you,” Lawrence says. “He says hi, by the way, and that he’s sorry he can’t be here.”

“Jay?” August says, racking her brain.  “Your… husband? Maybe?”

“Yeah, yeah, Jay’s my husband,” Lawrence says, face now twisted.  “You really don’t remember?”

“I knew you were married.  I remembered that,” August says.  “He was there, when it happened.”

There’s a sudden feeling of disappointment, of shame.  Even though she can’t remember any other details about that day, she always gets the nagging sense that she let them down.  

“Shit, August, I kind of thought you were kidding or exaggerating about the memory loss,” Lawrence says.

August shakes her head.  “When I woke up, I could barely remember my name.  The only thing that was clear was right happened right before.”

“What did happen, August?  You said you got shot in the  _ head _ ?” Lawrence asks.  

“I was carrying a poker chip.  Real valuable. It’s how I ended up with this,” August says, gesturing at the lounge, and then at the city before them.  “I got jumped. I got shot. It was a whole thing.”

Lawrence presses his lips together, looking suddenly much older.  “August…”

August shrugs, running her hands through her bangs.  “I’m okay.”

“Do you know who did it?  Where are they?” Lawrence says.  

He reaches out slowly, like he’s worried that she’s going to bolt.  Even though he just posed her a question, she sits silently as he brushes her bangs aside.  His eyes widen and he presses his lips into a thin line. 

August can’t see her forehead, but she knows what he’s taking in.  Two faded bullet holes. A line that runs around her whole skull, courtesy of the Think Tank.  

“I let him go,” August says.  “I found him, took his plan, and let him go.  And then a lot more things happened.”

Lawrence stands up abruptly.  He starts to pace back and forth, running his fingers through his own hair.  

“I’m okay, Lawrence.  I really am,” August says, watching him sadly.  She presses her bangs back into place. “It all worked out.”

“How could you say that?” Lawrence says.  “You got shot. In the head.”

“I also made some friends and did a lot of good, so I think it evens out,” August says.  “I dunno.”

“You forgot I was  _ alive _ .”

“That sucked.”

Lawrence keeps pacing back and forth, but August is content to let him work out whatever it is that he’s working out.  She has things of her own to work out, after all. 

August is staring at him, watching him move.  She wants this to be familiar. She wants the buried, damaged parts of her brain to light up at the sight of him pacing back and forth.  Surely, he’s paced angry before. 

For the last year and a half, she had hidden from the scattered pieces of memory she could put together because- from what she had put together- her brother was dead, and she didn’t want to remember any of that more clearly.  But now her brother is alive and here and with her, and she wants to know everything.

“Uh.  Hey, Lawrence?” August finally has to interrupt his pacing.

Lawrence stops pacing to face her, looking more lost than angry at this point.

“Do we have parents?” August asks.  “Like. Are they alive?”

“Mom and Dad?  Yeah, of course.  They finally gave up the travelling teacher life for a permanent place back home,” Lawrence says.

“The house on the lake,” August says slowly.  “Something happened, and we left.”

“Raiders.  They wiped out half the town.  That… is probably one thing that it’s good not to remember,” Lawrence says.  

August taps her fingers against the couch, anxious.  “What do I tell them? You tell them. I can’t tell them.  I don't  _ know _ them.’

“The raiders?” Lawrence asks.

“Our parents, ass,” August says.  Her eyes widen as she realizes what she’s said.  “Was that okay to say?”

“Yeah, yeah of course,” Lawrence says, waving it away.  “And you really don’t remember Mom and Dad?”

August shrugs.  “I know we had parents.  I know that they love us, but it’s like a fact, not a feeling.”  

Lawrence looks at her, sadly, and now it’s August’s turn to stand and start pacing.  She doesn’t remember her parents. When she thinks of them, she just feels… nothing. 

Maybe she can’t even feel that for them anymore.  Maybe they don’t just fit together anymore.

“Maybe… Maybe you should just them that I died.  I mean, I pretty much did, right?” August says finally.  “Maybe that would be easier for us all.”

“Why would you say that, August?  Holy hell,” Lawrence says. “I can’t even imagine what they would do if something happened to you.”

“But something did happen to me, Lawrence.  I am probably not the person that you knew- or that they knew.  It might be easier for them if they never have to know the difference.  It might be easier for you if-” August’s voice catches in her throat; she doesn’t want to think about letting Lawrence go now that he’s alive.  

“Don’t you finish that sentence, Augusta.  Don’t you dare.”

Lawrence sounds almost angry at her, but he crosses towards her.  He considers her for a brief moment before wrapping his arms around her tightly.  

August relaxes instantly, pressing herself into Lawrence’s arms.  She returns his hug, pulling him tighter to her. What if they just stuck tight like this forever?  It’d be simpler that way.

“You are my sister.  I’m your brother. It doesn’t matter how different we get- I sure am not the exact same- but we will always fit together right.  Always,” Lawrence says. “Trust me on this.”

August nods against his chest.  When she pulls away enough to look him in the eye, he’s crying, and August snuggles back against him for comfort.  Whether she’s comforting him or herself, she’s not sure. Maybe both. Probably both. But it doesn’t matter. They found each other.

**Author's Note:**

> I originally wasn't going to post this ever, but I really like it, so why not?


End file.
